


maybe. probably

by antiquescissors



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Amane Misa Deserves Better, Biblical Scripture References (Abrahamic Religions), Eventual Smut, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Light Angst, Not Canon Compliant, Protective Rem (Death Note)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:07:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27707381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antiquescissors/pseuds/antiquescissors
Summary: a mess of drunken nights, proposed kisses, caffeine addictions, and vague biblical references
Relationships: Amane Misa/L
Comments: 9
Kudos: 33





	maybe. probably

**Author's Note:**

> this was an absolute clusterfuck that i hyperfocused on for the past week. it's not even close to canon compliant and i twisted a lot of plotlines/timeframes for my own benefit. honestly just consider this an au
> 
> also there's some drinking in this fic and a slight reference to an eating disorder at some point, so, if either of those things are likely to trigger you or make you relapse, i wouldn't read
> 
> i don't own death note

Thou art beautiful, O my love, as Tirzah, comely as Jerusalem, terrible as an army with banners.  
— Song of Solomon 6:4

  
Taking a breath of cold, night air, L approaches the bar. He's sure this is the right one—he'd checked and double-checked, and, anyways, the note left on his desk was very specific. Still, he hesitates at its doors. 

_I have some information involving the Kira case that I think could be of some use to you. Please meet me at Another8 at exactly 11:30 p.m., the one outside headquarters, next to the laundromat. Don't bring anyone. Thank you! <3_

What an odd note. When L first read it, there seemed something sinister about it. The heart, the please, and the thank you. But it wasn't only the writing; something radiated from it. L had a gut reaction to it. He knew, instantly, that, were he to follow the instruction laid out in this note, he would not be safe. That it may even mean his undoing. 

Still, L stands outside the bar. He's not without backup. As per request, there is no one with him, but there is disguised security waiting to swoop in if he has an unexpected heart attack. When L opens the doors, he fully expects to see Light Yagami. 

Instead he is greeted by Misa Amane. 

She's sipping on something at the table when he opens the door, but she quickly turns to him. Her eyes are wide. She's been drinking, L is sure. "Ryuzaki! I didn't expect to see you here. Come sit with me!" 

L is struck by the clarity of it all. Of course. The heart at the end of the note. The neat, pink handwriting. He might've expected that it would be her. 

He wonders to himself if she plans to kill him. If that were the case, wouldn't she have done it earlier, in a situation that wouldn't incriminate her instantly? With that in mind, he slides into a seat beside her. Misa does not plan to kill him tonight. Still, as she swirls around to face him, he's not convinced that he's entirely safe. 

"How was work today?" she sings, kicking her feet at the table. 

L ignores her. "Misa, did you leave a note at my desk sometime between five and six in the afternoon?" 

Her eyes widen in exaggerated confusion. "A note?" She grabs at her drink and takes a small, lady-like sip. "No, I don't think so."

L raises his eyebrows. He's not surprised by her decision to play stupid. It wouldn't be the first time she's employed that tactic. He could prove that she left the note, using security footage or perhaps even DNA evidence, if he felt so inclined. Instead, he'll allow it. Judging by her flushed cheeks, it's likely that she'll end up admitting to something accidentally anyway. _Staying would be the logical answer. After all, who knows when I'll get another opportunity like this?_

"You don't remember anything about a note?" he asks, leaning on his elbow. The environment was more intimidating before. He feels more natural, more comfortable now that he's begun to interrogate her. "One that mentioned evidence related to the Kira case?" 

Misa shakes her head, little blonde pigtails swinging wildly. "Nope!" She has this smile on her face, one that smacks of mockery. It's obvious. She's mocking him, and she wants him to know it.

L doesn't mind being mocked if it means getting closer to the answer. "For some reason, I doubt that, Miss Amane." And he's sure he's right. The note had been left with no description of the person leaving it. The writer must have assumed that he would recognize them. 

Misa shrugs, holding her drink out to him. L studies the liquid in the glass. Poison? Is that her plan, to poison him and herself, so that they will both die? Could she really be willing to die to aid Light's plans? L acknowledges, with a little sourness, that of course she would. She wouldn't even hesitate. 

L doesn't drink from it. 

For the remainder of their meeting, Misa rambles uselessly about topics that have nothing to do with the investigation. She slurs out the events of her day, and gestures exaggeratedly at nothing in particular. Still, L listens intently, hoping to catch a slip-up, hoping she'll give him an inch so that he can take the mile. People seated around them gawk. Understandably. L knows it must look a little strange. A beautiful model, rambling drunkenly, being studied by a vaguely frog-like insomniac. He doesn't mind. All the more witnesses if Misa reveals herself, or makes an attempt on his life, or both. 

At the end of her one-sided conversation, Misa clutches at her head with one hand. "I'm feeling really woozy," she mumbles. Her big, brown doe eyes meet his. "Would you mind walking me back to my apartment? So I can be safe?" 

He obliges. 

Not out of any concern for her safety, though it would be a problem if one of his main suspects were kidnapped or murdered. He follows her solely in search of new information. Her apartment, L suspects, may have new secrets to uncover. It's also likely that, in a safer environment, she'll feel more comfortable telling him the truth.

Not for the first time tonight, he wonders if there even is a truth. Did she even plan on giving him information in the first place? He doubts it. Misa is nothing if not loyal, and, if L's predictions are correct, the Kira investigation's main suspect is her beloved boyfriend. _Her beloved boyfriend,_ L thinks, _who isn't here to walk her home on a night this dark._ The sky is black, and the streets are only illuminated by traffic lights and glowing advertisements. 

They're not even a minute into their walk when Misa pipes up. "You know, one time I was walking alone and this stalker just jumped out of nowhere. He was super in love with me, and he had a knife."

L had known this already. "Hm. That's terrible."

"Right? It was really scary. Lucky for me, he died right there."

L had known this as well. It only added to the likelihood that she was the second Kira. Was that her motive in telling him this story? A confession, of sorts? "That _is_ lucky," he says in a voice that drips with sarcasm. 

Misa nods vigorously. She's silent, then, but it's only a few minutes before she starts again. 

"You know," she whispers, walking closer to him as though they have a secret to keep between them, "I think that bartender wanted to fuck me."

L jolts away suddenly, looking her in the face. It wasn't the statement that surprised him, but the vulgarity of it. Until that point, she'd been marketing herself with such innocence that he hadn't expected it of her. 

He swallows, regaining his composure. "What made you think that?" he asks. 

Misa sighs and shrugs hopelessly. "You can always tell by their eyes."

It's at this moment that she chooses to look into his. 

L feels suddenly self-conscious, pressured to look away from her. He doesn't. L has no desire to have sex with Misa Amane, and he's fairly certain there's nothing in his eyes that would indicate otherwise. Still, she smiles when she catches his gaze. L doesn't know whether it's a smile of realization, friendliness, or drunkenness. 

They're silent for the remainder of their walk. It's only after they reach Misa's apartment that L realizes she didn't eat. 

"It was so sweet of you, to walk me back here. I think you should come in for a little while," Misa offers. She's standing in the doorway of her apartment, head slightly tilted so that her bangs sweep sideways across her forehead. 

L fakes hesitancy. "I don't want to impose," he says, glancing off to the side. 

Misa pouts at him. "Not even if I told you I had cake?" 

_That_ is the first piece of good news L's heard all night. He looks back to her. Her eyes are huge and pleading, and her hands are clasped together. _There's no doubt my security guards followed me here, and her room is packed with surveillance cameras._ "Well," L muses, putting his thumb to his lip as if considering it heavily, "if you insist."

He steps through the doorway. The apartment is fairly large, which was to be expected, considering Misa's occupation. There isn't a lot of furniture, at least that he can see. The feature that stands out to him is her couch—it's old and beaten down. _Surely she has the money to replace that. How odd, that she hasn't yet._

Misa smiles at him. 

"You've been here before, right?" 

"I have."

"You went through my stuff?" 

L doesn't respond to that, thinking the answer is fairly obvious. 

Misa giggles, not to be deterred by his silence. She spins around and waltzes up to the couch, which she plops down upon without grace. "Come sit with me!" she calls out, kicking her fishnet-clad legs. 

L glances towards the clock hanging over her table. An hour and a half, and he's no closer to solving the Kira investigation than he was yesterday. A surge of annoyance runs through him. An entire night wasted, being toyed with. What the hell had he been thinking? She probably doesn't actually have cake, either. 

"Misa," he says, letting exhaustion seep into his tone, "if you don't have anything useful to tell me, I'll be heading out now."

Misa stares at him oddly. There's something else in her gaze now, beyond the drunkenness. L shudders, feeling the same way he had when he'd first read her note. He's not safe. He doesn't know what Misa has planned, or whether it will come to fruition tonight, but he knows that he is not safe.

She tilts her head. "Have you ever kissed anyone before, Ryuzaki?" 

"No." He's reaching for the doornob.

Misa gasps mockingly. "No one? No girls, no guys?" 

"No."

He looks back again. She doesn't look drunk at all. Her eyes are sharp. Cold. Idly, he ponders whether it was all faked to begin with. 

Misa yawns dramatically, throwing herself sideways. "You can leave then."

Quickly, he does. 

\----

Light is far more irritating than his girlfriend. And that's a difficult title to gain. 

L can overlook his perfectionism, his judgemental tendencies, and his massive ego. Those aren't uncommon traits; he even somewhat relates to them. The infuriating part is something deeper, an attitude, a mentality. Light is judge, jury, and executioner, and in his mind, that is justifiable. It is for this reason that even now, while Light displays no obvious signs of being Kira, L continues to suspect him. 

"Misa, for fuck's sake, can you just leave us alone while we're trying to work?" 

_Cold._ To Light's credit, Misa has been nothing but unhelpful at best and a distraction at worst. Still...that's no way for a man to talk to his girlfriend. 

Or, at least, L assumes that's the case. He's not exactly well-versed on the subject. 

Misa pouts at her boyfriend, sticking her lip out slightly. "I was just wondering if you guys wanted some cookies." And there's something sort of hopeless about the sight of her, the way her shoulders slump with disappointment and the glossiness of her eyes. 

L rises from his crouching position walks to the kitchen for the sake of those cookies. Not because Misa is sad. 

He's only taken his first bite when she pins him to the wall. It's a loud, messy ordeal. The wall thuds, the tin cookie tray clatters against the floor, and Misa. Misa is standing over him, smiling so widely you would hardly believe she was moments from crying earlier. The look in her eyes is positively feral. 

"Was that true?" she coos, looking down at him with an almost-sweet expression. "What you said earlier? About falling for me?" 

It had not been. "Sure."

Misa grins, taking a step back. "I knew it." She clasps her hands behind her back, tilting her head up to look at him now that he's risen. "I have a secret to tell you. One that you can never tell anyone else in the world."

L's eyes widen. Is it possible that she's finally willing to give him information? 

Misa cups her hand and leans in. "I've never kissed anyone, either." He can feel her breath on his neck, and it makes him shiver. Even though he's not looking at her ( _I can't look at her I can't look at her I can't_ ), he knows she's smiling. "No one at all." 

L inhales. Exhales. Her perfume smells like cherries. "I feel...that this might be a lie."

Misa pulls away, eyes wide, and feigns shock and betrayal. "Is that really how you feel?" 

"Yes."

"Well. How would you feel if I kissed you right now?" 

_What?_

L studies her. Her silver boots have more buckles than he's willing to count at the moment, and her tights hug her legs in a lacy, flowery pattern. His gaze drifts from her black skirt to her midriff to the cross hanging around her neck. 

"Are you a Christian?" he asks, gesturing to the cross. He's really just avoiding her eyes at this point. 

"I'm a Kira supporter." She holds the cross pendant up by its chain. "That's my religion."

L swallows. "I thought you were willing to catch Kira. For Light's sake."

Misa widens her eyes in a display of confusion so exaggerated it's an insult. She's mocking him again. "Did I say that? Oh, well. I say lots of things."

They study each other. 

L pushes her aside and makes his way back to the living room, where his investigative partner is waiting for him. Light raises an eyebrow when he enters the room, but says nothing. L wonders if he could hear the conversation in the kitchen. Though it wouldn't matter much either way. It's not as though Light would care if he knew his beautiful girlfriend was propositioning other men for kisses. That was the most infuriating part. He didn't care at all. 

L lets out a long sigh. _Back to work._

\---

It takes hours for him to fall asleep. He is consumed by Misa's image. Misa in the bar, smiling widely, holding her drink out to him. Misa thrown sloppily over her couch. Misa pinning him against the wall, looking down into his eyes when he shrank. Misa's breath against his ear. 

When he finally sleeps, he dreams of her. 

Red lips press to L's in a frenzy. He dimly registers the smell of her perfume, and recognizes it instantly. Cherries. There is a sweetness, so thick and so suffocating L can hardly stand it. When she kisses his neck, he can feel the venom dripping from her teeth. When she arches against him and moans out his name, he knows it's a siren's call. L kisses her anyway. His arm wraps around her waist, pulling her flush against him. He's painfully hard, and when she feels it, she grins. 

"I knew it," she says. 

L wakes up in a cold sweat, hyperventilating. Inhale. Exhale. His cock strains against his boxers. His head is heavy with shame. 

The dream is the first of many. 

\--

The residue of the dream clings to him, stains him. When Watari offers him cake with a cherry on top, L swiftly declines. Not even coffee is a welcome distraction; the added sugar only serves to remind him of the sweetness of her mouth. L pushes away not only the memory of the dream, but also the image of himself in the shower that morning, jerking off furiously. It had been a hurried, clumsy affair, and, when he finished, he pictured crimson lips wrapped around him. 

So, naturally, he tenses when he hears quick, heeled footsteps approaching his chair. 

"Ryuzaki!" a voice sings over his shoulder. L channels the urge to flinch into a slow blink and a very controlled exhalation. 

"Misa," he says in the dryest tone he can manage, "may I ask how you were able to get into the building?"

L doesn't look at her, but he can feel her leaning against the chair. Her hum vibrates in his skull. "I thought you didn't suspect me anymore. Besides, we're friends, aren't we?" 

"Of course, Misa," he says as he hides the research on his computer from her view. "Of course we're friends."

"I'm glad," she says, and plunks down on his chair's arm. L bristles slightly. "Whatcha working on?" 

Sigh. "Investigating your boyfriend."

"Hmm. Light's the love of my life."

"Of course, Misa. Of course he's the love of your life."

"He's the love of my life." L finally convinces himself to look at her. "But he's not really my friend."

She's looking down on him with the same look she gave him in the dream. The same look she gave him in her apartment a few nights ago. "Ryuzaki, have you ever had sex before?" 

"No, I can't say that I have."

Misa lets out a long, dramatic sigh. "Me neither! I mean, I know Light is just waiting 'till we catch Kira, which is fine because he's totally gorgeous and I know he'll be worth the wait. But I've never done anything." Another loud sigh, her head leaning onto L's shoulder. "And I'm _so_ curious."

L says nothing. 

"I mean"—Misa leans further onto him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders for support—"so curious that I might just hook up with the first guy who offers."

L can't bring himself to look at her, can't stand it if she still looks the way she did in the dream. Hates that this will end up being fodder for his dreams in the future. Instead, he looks at the cross, dangling between her cleavage. It doesn't help much. "That's a little concerning, Miss Amane. It sounds dangerous. I wouldn't recommend it."

Misa sighs for the third time, this time with...disappointment? as she rises from his chair. L realizes with disgust that he misses the way her head fit into the crook of his neck. A cool breeze brushes past his skin, and it's the ventilation—he knows that—but all he can think about is how cold he is without her warmth. 

She pauses at the exit, fixes him with a look. Not the one from the dream. 

"I didn't know you cared."

\---

As L walks the borderline between sleep and consciousness, he barely dares to breathe. Misa is standing in front of him, lips curled, hands clasped in front of her. She's beautiful. L can admit that here. As much as he refrains from acknowledging it in his waking hours, it is undeniable now. The dream is more real to him than before, its colors more vivid. His brain can map out her entire body, and, behind her, the background is blank. 

She kisses him lightly on the lips and steps back. "Do you want me to show you something? Something I've never shown Him?" 

Overwhelmed, L can only nod. 

Dream Misa smiles fondly and reaches for the hem of her shirt. She slides it above her hips, nails caressing her pale skin, above her stomach, up to her ribs. L is enraptured by the sight of her. She often wore shirts that exposed her midriff, but he'd never allowed himself to focus on it before. Her shirt rests just under her breasts, her hands not daring to pull it any further. At first, L wonders if she's teasing him, but then it occurs to him that he's never seen her above the ribs before. His brain stutters as it tries to incorporate this into the dream. 

When L wakes, he is sorely disappointed, and then frustrated with himself for being disappointed. 

\--

A few nights following the dream, L, Light, and Misa go out for dinner and drinks together. 

If he accepted the invitation in an effort to re-establish a sense of normality, it was something of a wasted effort. L orders without glancing at the menu, eats his cake without tasting it. He's busy trying to appear as if he is looking toward the other end of the table for some other reason than to watch Misa talk. Judging by Light’s increasingly snide comments in his ear, he is failing miserably, but there doesn't seem to be much he can do about it. Every time he forces himself to concentrate on his investigation, he is still maddeningly aware of Misa’s hands flickering through the air as she talks, the cadence of her voice, her blonde hair catching the light and throwing it back like a beacon. Her presence is so loud, L wonders how anyone manages to behave as if she isn't the only person in the room.

Not unlike his last time at the bar, L refuses a drink. As does Light. In contrast, Misa throws shots back with a resolve that suggests she has nothing to lose. Shot, after shot, after shot, and and her cheeks are almost as red as her lipstick. Her voice is smoother, her movements more fluid. It is ridiculously attractive, more than it should be. Light doesn't seem to share this view, judging by the way he glares at her, as though her being there is a blight on their outing. 

"-guess I'll just have to take Ryuzaki home with me!" 

L blinks. Looks to his left and sees Light rubbing his forehead and gritting his teeth. "Yes, that would be best. Take Ryuzaki home with you."

Looks to his right and catches Misa's wink. 

It's funny. He's never noticed before how her eyelashes throw off bits of light. 

Take Ryuzaki home with you. 

It wouldn't be the first time L's walked her home. It wouldn't be the first time walking her home could prove an asset, either. While her last stupor may have been an act, she is now hugely, undoubtedly drunk. _Drunk,_ L muses, _and arguing with her boyfriend._ Truly, the perfect opportunity to mine information. Was it too much to hope for, that she might betray Light's trust tonight? She was willing to cheat on him. Who's to say she wouldn't also be willing to leak his secrets to the general public? 

After L finishes off the last of his cake, when he and Misa are standing at the door, he throws one last glance back at Light. He's sitting demurely, a smug little smile plastered on his face. 

"Good luck," he sneers. 

L thinks he's going to need it. 

They don't speak in the fifteen minutes and thirty-eight seconds it takes to reach Misa's apartment. The silence is a mixed blessing; it gives L time to outline a sufficient interrogation plan, but it also makes him too tense to think clearly. Misa is rarely quiet for this long. He wonders, not for the first time this week, if she plans to kill him tonight. If she does, there are cameras in her room to catch every moment. That's enough for L. 

When they reach the apartment, L steps through the doorway, and Misa lets him. 

She throws her takeout box haphazardly to the side, leaning on the table for support. L hopes she doesn't puke, just so he won't have to clean it up. 

She turns to him, nose scrunched. "Have you eaten anything today besides that cake?" 

"Indeed I have."

"What was it?" 

L answers honestly. "A batch of cookies, and a bowl of ice cream."

Misa groans and lies on her back. As confused as L is by her reaction, he's slightly more preoccupied with keeping his gaze away from her thighs, which are spread across the table. "You need to start eating real food," she scolds, as though he's a child. 

Her tone annoys L, and she's wrong, anyway. "Sweets are re-" 

" _No,_ Ryuzaki! I won't have it! You have to start eating healthy. If you don't, everything goes all crazy. Believe me, I know."

His mind flashes back to the dream. Her shirt rising over her stomach, exposing her very count-able ribs. Snaps out of it. 

"No, no, you don't understand," he starts to explain, "I need the sugar, for energy. It's the best possible choice I could make when it comes to the investigation."

"But you're not getting all the other stuff you need! Like, like, vitamins and other stuff! _God,_ you're just _killing_ yourself!" She spits the words out; shrieks them. Her high pitch, when she is angry, rises to shrill. 

L takes a cautious backstep. For all that Light is cold, calculative, and deliberate, Misa is hot, messy, and unpredictable. He pins that thought to the forefront of his brain like a sticky note. It's all too often nowadays that he forgets how dangerous, how chaotic Misa can be. He also notes how similar their personalities are to the profiles of the first and second Kira. 

Misa pauses, heavy with the realization that she's made L afraid. Her shoulders slump. She looks at him with sad—not angry—eyes as she goes to bed. "G'night, Ryuzaki," she hiccups as she drags her feet back to her room. 

L is suitably perplexed. 

After a moment of consideration, he decides to crash on her couch. Who's to say he won't be able to interrogate her in the morning? Besides, she was the one who invited him here, and she hadn't given him any indication that she expected him to leave. Then again, maybe it was just a given that he would leave. Maybe she would be horrified to see that he had stayed the night, and she'd call him a pervert and a freak and force him out. Well, then that would be fine, too. L would cope. 

Boredly, he scans her room, curious to see if there's anything he neglected to report last time her apartment was searched, but all his sleep-deprived brain registers is just how lonely her apartment is. And his assessment has nothing to do with the furniture, or the layout, or the decoration; it's feeling he gets upon entering. There's a kind of sadness that eminates from it. He ponders on what her life might've been had she never met Light. She would've been wholly and terribly alone, coming home drunk at night, dragging herself to photoshoots in the afternoons. Not very different from her current lifestyle, actually. _He_ would never have met her, that's certain. 

He wonders if it might have been better that way. 

In his dreams tonight, things have escalated considerably. Misa is seated comfortably on his cock, and she's so warm, so tight around him he can barely stand it. She snickers mischievously, sliding up and down ever so slowly. It's not even close to enough friction and she knows it. Delights in it. "Misa," he groans in frustration. She moans and pretends not to hear him, the way he'd deduced she would. Ah, well. L knows there are other ways to get her attention, and they come in the form of his razor teeth sinking into her neck. She makes this pretty little noise, somewhere between a yelp and a moan, and pulls away giggling. 

"Careful!" She wags a finger teasingly. "If she sees you hurting me, you'll have bigger problems to worry about than your stupid investigation."

"Who is she?" L murmurs into her neck, pressing little kisses to the wounded skin like apologies. 

"Can't you see her? Look behind me. Look at her, standing over me."

L's gaze drifts upwards. He wishes it hadn't. Towering above Misa is a creature of bandage and skeleton and sinew, casting a long, spiked shadow over their bodies. L thinks that if it wasn't so humanoid, he would be less disturbed by it. But it's eyes. They burn with resentment. It hates him. He knows it. Misa's warmth leaves him in an instant, and he is freezing. Why has she gone so cold? L pulls away from her throat to look her in the eyes. 

Misa looks warm as ever. "Isn't she beautiful?" 

L wakes up gasping, shaken in the kind of way that he knows will follow him. He's never viewed any of the dreams in a positive light, but that was the first one he could say with certainty that he hated. 

Misa—the real, hungover Misa—side-eyes him from the other end of the couch. How long has she been standing there, watching him? Her pigtails resemble two blonde birds' nests, and she's covered by nothing but a plain T-shirt. She yawns and rubs her eyes, grumbling something unintelligible. 

L rises from the couch with achy joints, tries not to look at her bare legs. Misa hands him a bag and pats him on the back as he makes his way out the door. 

\---

Back at task force headquarters, detective L gathers the force and informs them that Misa Amane, one of his main suspects, has given him a suspicious-looking brown bag. 

He unwraps it carefully, surrounded by his fellow task force members. Inside the bag is a tiny, styrofoam box. 

He opens that box to reveal leftover dinner.

Her leftovers. 

She gave him her leftovers. 

Matsuda pats him on the back a little awkwardly and rises to leave, followed by the rest of the force. L hears quiet grumbling and pictures the dramatic eye-rolls. 

Her leftovers. L turns the box over and over in his hands. 

_I didn't know you cared._

\---

Proceeding his nightmare in Misa's apartment, L makes the executive decision that sleep is overrated. His dreams thus far have bared a striking resemblance to Misa herself: distracting at best, absolutely terrifying at worst. To end them altogether, he's developed a bit of a caffeine addiction. He drank coffee before, of course, but never quite so much. His legs tremble, now, even when he curls them into his chest. 

As is her nature, Misa shows up at headquarters when L needs her least. 

"Did you like the leftovers I gave you?" He's not quite looking at her, but he knows she's shifting from side to side in his peripheral, eaqerly awaiting an answer. 

"Not at all."

She rolls her eyes. Grips the arms of his chair and twists him around so that he can look at her fully. 

"But you ate them?" Misa questions, raising an eyebrow. 

"Of course, Misa," L says softly. His gaze slides up her outline, mapping out the shape of her legs, the bend in her waist, the curve of her neck. She's wearing blue contacts. L wishes she wasn't. "Of course I ate them."

\---

Light is in Misa's living room, trying and failing to deflect suspicions. L is in her bathroom, tapping an impatient foot. And Misa, if L's deductions were correct, is rapidly approaching the bathroom and just about to-

The door bursts open, just like he knew—hoped—it would. 

Misa's eyes widen, feigning shock, as if she hadn't known he would be in there all along. As if that hadn't been her intention the entire time. But, when she knows he's seen her, her lips curl into a devious smile. 

"You know you were dreaming about me the night you slept in my apartment?" She's standing in front of him. L doesn't look down at what she's wearing. He knows it's not much. 

"I'm aware," he says. It's with little shame that he admits it. 

"You really are a pervert."

"Bold words coming from the same girl who was willing to have sex with the first person who offered. Did you ever end up satisfying that curiosity?" 

Misa ignores this. "Earlier, you acted like you didn't even wanna kiss me. Imagine my surprise, going to my couch that morning to hear you moaning my name." She leans in, smile blown into a full grin. "What were you dreaming about, Ryuzaki?" 

L starts to wonder if this is part of her and Light's plans as second and first Kira. If she's toying with him to get in his head, ruin his biases, and keep him awake at night. If that is her plan, it's working perfectly. L is letting it work perfectly. And he hardly cares. 

He's about to say that the answer seems obvious, but Light steps into the room first. _Damn him._ Misa starts shrieking up a storm about how gross and weird and creepy it is to walk into a bathroom when someone else is in there (oh, the irony) and doesn't he have any respect for his girlfriend and doesn't he even TRUST her to be alone with another guy for FIVE minutes?! Light looks positively exhausted, and L can't blame him. 

"So, uh," Light says, rubbing his forehead, "do you want to get back to work, or should I leave you guys to it?" 

L walks out without saying another word, pulling out of Misa's grip when she reaches for his hand. As he exits, he can hear only one pair of footsteps behind him, and they're not heeled boots. L worries momentarily that he hurt her feelings, pulling away from her, and then thinks that that's a stupid thing to worry about. 

\---

_I'm finally ready to reveal that top secret information on the Kira case I was telling you about. Meet me at the same bar you did last time. We're meeting at midnight. Wear a nice outfit and don't be late!_

It was punctuated with a sloppy drawing of a winky face. 

And it was pretty damn convincing, too, because here L is, crouched next to Misa Amane yet again in a crowded bar. She's wearing a formal black dress and an over-the-top lace veil over her head. Looking at her, L flushes slightly. He hadn't changed his wardrobe beyond the waist, swapping out his signature baggy jeans for a pair of dress pants. Still, Misa looks thrilled to see him. 

_Strange._

"Notice anything different about me?" She asks, holding a tiny glass out to him. L catches it immediately. 

"You're sober."

"Bingo!" Misa throws him some finger guns. "But not for long! Here, you drink one and I'll drink one-" He studies the liquid in the glass. It's not poison. 

Maybe. 

Probably. 

"-and then we'll both be equally drunk!"

"And then you'll give me that top secret information on the Kira case?" 

Misa chugs, which is an odd thing to do with a drink like this, L is decently sure. "Yeah, yeah. Totally."

L throws back the contents of the glass and finds them to be undoubtedly repulsive. Bitter to the point of being undrinkable. _No wonder she always drinks this stuff so quickly. She's probably trying to get it over with._

"Misa," he croaks, "could we please get something sweeter?" 

She scoffs. "You think I'm made of money?" _Aren't you...an idol?_ "Drink up. Beggars can't be choosers!"

L thinks that he neither begged nor chose, but he says nothing. Just follows out her orders and tries to drink without tasting. Maybe it's poison after all, he thinks, and also thinks that that would be a hilarious way to die. By a goth model's hand, in a fancy bar, wearing the outfit he's wearing. It would be hysterical. 

The alcohol might be starting to affect him. 

Misa doesn't say much after that, and, on their walk home, she only talks about inconsequential things. Lazily, she sways from side to side, a human metronome. As L watches her, something warm blooms in his chest. She's beautiful. What was he thinking, earlier, when he denied her kiss? How could he have been so woefully misguided? Every now and then, she'll pretend to stumble, and wrap her arms around L for support. He knows she's not that drunk, and maybe not even tipsy with the tolerance she's built up over the years. L, on the other hand, is feeling the effects with a strength he hadn't anticipated. Not so severely that his judgment is impaired, he hopes. 

At her apartment, they both seat themselves on the couch. He's developed a sort of fondness for it by now. Misa sighs and curls up on his lap and he does nothing to stop her, nothing at all. 

"Did you eat any real food today?" she mumbles into his leg. 

L strokes her hair, not thinking. Thinking too much. "I did."

He can feel her smile. "I'm glad."

They stay like that for a while, L running a delicate hand through Misa's hair while she rests against him. After a few minutes have passed, a surge of annoyance runs through him. It occurs to him that he hasn't actually gotten the evidence she promised, and he probably won't. She's been toying with him. She's been distracting him from his case, getting him intoxicated, and creating diversions and he's just let her. 

Does she plan to kill him tonight? It's not unlikely that she does. Not for the first time, he broods on the possibility that this has all been a plot woven together between she and Light. Just how probable is that? About fifty percent, he would guess. It could go either way. For an amateur actress, Misa has put on quite the convincing performance. _You,_ he thinks, looking pointedly at the sleeping girl in his lap, _are deserving of an Oscar._ It's funny. He'd always thought of Light as being cold and Misa as being hot. He now wonders if it's maybe the other way around. Light has exploded with anger in the past, deliberately striking him, letting his emotions get the better of him. Misa, in contrast, has been exceedingly patient in her manipulation of L. Assuming, of course, that this has all been a manipulation. Again, there's only a fifty-percent likelihood that that is the case. 

"Misa," he whispers, "what was that information you wanted to give me?" 

She raises her head from his lap. "Information?" she sings, raising an eyebrow. He knows what is to come. "I don't remember saying anything about any information." 

L grabs her and kisses her furiously, arching her back with his grip. Misa pulls away, throws her head back, and laughs gloriously, and as she begins to unzip him, L thinks that if this was what she wanted all along she should've said so sooner. He would've given it to her. 

She makes a little whimpery noise when his cock springs free from his boxers and sinks down to her knees on the floor. L hesitates slightly. He's never received a blowjob—never received anything—and he's not convinced that she won't just bite it off and let him die of blood loss right there. But the second her lips press to the head, and her tongue darts out, sliding around it, any hesitation he had leaves in a rush. 

Misa moans and bobs her head, sliding her lips back and forth along his length. Desperate noises escape him, and his hips roll further into her mouth with every thrust. He almost wants to pull her down by her pigtails, make her choke on it as a punishment for all the teasing. He doesn't. 

But he is embarrassingly close, and he does tug her hair slightly, if only for the sake of getting her attention. She looks up at him with wide eyes, and it only serves to make him harder, bring him a little closer to the edge. He groans. 

"Misa," L pants, "I can't- it's too-" 

She seems to get the idea. He slides out between her lips with a pop, and her mouth stretches into a grin. "I'm just too good, huh?" L, half gone with pleasure, doesn't respond. "That's okay. I thought it was time I let you fuck me anyways."

It's then that she rises to her feet. She wobbles slightly, unsteady as she climbs onto his lap, holding his shoulders for support. L wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her close. She's wearing a skirt. He presumes she must not be wearing anything underneath it. 

He's right. 

She hikes up the black fabric of her skirt with one hand and holds his cock in the other, stroking it in little circles with her thumb. She's panting, desperate as she lines it up with her entrance. Her fingers tremble where they meet L's skin. 

But he's painfully hard and has little faith in his stamina. "Misa," he whines again, "I-" 

"I know," she cuts him off, and finally, finally, sinks onto his cock. 

L groans again, throwing his head back. She's so wet, and hot, and tight around him he can barely breathe, barely think. Misa is careful in the way she lowers down, taking every inch of him in the most maddening way possible. She moans into his shoulder, light and airy, as she begins to rock back and forth. 

L is smacked with the memory of his dream, of Misa's dream counterpart's teasing motions. Even then, she wasn't giving him enough friction. And she knows she isn't. That's the whole point. Her hips raise and lower sadistically slowly, coaxing his cock in and out of her inch by inch. His desperation builds to a point where it's almost physically painful. _If I ask her to pick up the pace, she'll do exactly the opposite._

So L doesn't ask. He grabs her tightly around the waist as she rises, holding her midair, and fucks up into her with a vengeance. Misa squeals gleefully, burying her face into his shoulder as he pounds into her. The pace is ruthless. 

"You feel so good," Misa babbles, "so good and so big." He accepts the flattery eagerly. Even while he's fucking her like this, he's stroking her hair back with a gentle hand, looking into her eyes, and that's the sickest part about it. That's the evidence that she's ruined him. Sex is just sex is just sex but his fingers in her hair are undeniable. L is hers. 

He is hers, but he's not convinced that she's his. He thrusts quickly, mercilessly, building into a frenzy while she spills cut off moans into his ear. He won't be convinced that she's his until he's spilling inside her. He knows it. Plans on it. 

"Can I?" he whines, desperate. 

Misa grins, and, to answer his question, squeezes around him in a vice grip. He slams fully inside her, his load spilling deep. He fills her to the brim and then some. And she's arching against him, pulsing around him like a heartbeat. Taking everything he has to offer. 

He thinks he might be in love. 

Maybe. 

Probably. 

\---

On her couch, curled beside her, L sleeps for the first time in days. 

Dream Misa is standing in front of him, a lacy, gothic dress flung about her. A matching bonnet resting on her head. Her makeup has been applied heavily and dramatically, her eyelashes casting shadows over her cheeks. She looks like a porcelain doll. She looks like, if dropped from any height, she would shatter into pieces. 

There is nothing devious or playful in her gaze when she approaches L. And when she leans in, it's only to kiss him sweetly on the cheek. When she pulls away, there are tears streaming down her face. 

"I'm really, really sorry, Ryuzaki. Please forgive me." Misa collapses onto her knees. She's sobbing now, and in L's mind, her cries echo forever. She clasps her hands out in front of her as though praying in repentance. "It was so hard and so horrible and I didn't know what I was doing." She is hysterical, practically screaming. L reaches out to comfort her, but his hand drifts through her face like mist. "So, so horrible and I never had a chance. Oh, God. He made me do it. Oh, God. I loved Him and I love you so much and I'm so sorry. And I'm so sorry."

**Author's Note:**

> promise i'll get to work on the college au now


End file.
